The First Book of Michael (17 page)

Neverland became a custom-made physical construct of this mentality. Michael’s exploitation of the rampant capitalism that defined the eighties made the development of Neverland a fiscal possibility – but once this had been accomplished, Michael transformed his home into something of substance and importance. He elevated Neverland into “a place called Hallowed Ground” – Michael wrote ‘Speechless’ whilst watching children play there.

Neverland was an oasis of solace and innocence. Like the protagonist in Salvador Dali’s painting
Female Figure with Head of Flowers
, Neverland shone as a beacon of beauty in an otherwise-arid landscape bedevilled by searching, solitude, regret and servitude: both metaphorically-speaking, and physically. The racketeering attempt of 2005 struck at the very core of his philosophy; his mission; his heart. It tore off the petals and trampled them into the oblivion of the surrounding dust.

The bustling laughter of children gives anywhere an inherent sense of unbridled joy. The playground that was Neverland became ghostly silent in its grief for those children that fell victim to the demonic personalities infected by “the same disease of lust, gluttony and greed”, as Michael laments in the
HIStory
album track, ‘Money’. The actions of a pitifully envious few, hell-bent on monetary gain, were the ones that raped children. Not Michael.

***

I was recently watching my two young daughters run around the local park. They approached people without prejudice, their curiosity craving the sating of a question on their minds: “Why is your baby crying?” or “Can you ride a bicycle, too?”
They indiscriminately engage with strangers, usually introducing themselves with the ostensibly random knowledge of how old they are.
They are an unparalleled pleasure to observe. Yet, there was something in their demeanour that reminded me of the horrors I have personally witnessed on the streets of the Kenyan capital of Nairobi. The thirst for knowledge that I recognised in my children’s faces caused me to recall the look in the eyes of Kenyan children of a similar age – pre-schoolers – who begged for money from people passing by: money that would be spent on the drugs to which they had become addicted; drugs that helped them escape the reality of their tragic situation.

I recently happened upon an interview with the actor Zac Efron (as one does.) In it, Mr. Efron describes – as a fortuitous consequence of working with Kenny Ortega on the
High School Musical
movie franchise – how he was handed a phone on which Michael was on the other end. Zac Efron is a lifelong fan of Michael’s, and the surprise that was his being on the phone to his idol, resulted in him breaking down in uncontrollable tears. Unable to compose himself, Zac handed the phone back to Kenny Ortega, who ended the call. Michael then phoned back and asked to speak to the actor. Michael was also now crying. Through the mutual sobs, Michael managed to utter the words, “See? Dreams do come true.”

I believe that Michael was weeping in the piqued hope of believing his own dreams would one day come to fruition: that all his efforts in forging a cultural foundation upon a belief in the wisdom of childhood would one day be realised; that all the sacrifice will have been worth it. After all – and with total respect to the likeable man – I somehow doubt Michael was plaintive at the realisation of a dream involving talking to Zac Efron on the phone.

The proposed sale of Neverland by the Estate – the physical construct, remember, that inimitably expresses Michael’s soul – is a tragedy. Michael acquiesced to participate in
This Is It
for financial reasons, though at the same time persevering in earnestly dismissing the idea of selling Neverland (or his unpublished music, for that matter).

In 2003, Michael said,

“I wanted to have a place where I could create everything I never had as a child… I love it. And I will always love it. And I will never, ever sell Neverland. Neverland is me… You know? It represents the totality of who I am. It really does… I love Neverland.”

In 2012, a legal spokesperson for Katherine Jackson said, “It is the wish of the beneficiaries that Neverland be kept in the family, and Michael’s children one day decide what to do with their home.” In 2013, Paris Jackson spoke about her wish to return and resurrect this childhood home. In a few mere years, Michael’s children will gain personal control of their inherited share of their father’s multi-millions (should they still exist). Why can’t the lawyers at the helm of the Estate of Michael Jackson fund the preservation of this culturally-precious, historically-significant and much-cherished childhood home until then? The place where Michael’s children grew up not having to imagine retrieving animals from their attic, as those very real animals lived in their garden? Animals that lived there because Michael so clearly and inherently understood the idiosyncratic yearnings of youth.

Legal advice or otherwise, it is no wonder that Michael never returned to Neverland. Instead, he embarked on a world tour of an altogether different ilk – he became nomadic, traversing the globe looking for somewhere that he could settle with his children, unworried and secure.

Michael craved privacy. He understood that privacy is crucial for potential; for creativity; for democracy. Another example of his dichotomous nature was his being the most recognisable person on the planet, yet also the most private. His philosophy made concrete, that to be truly free, one must exist within an environment that allows the flourishing of an individual’s potential, in order to be able to contribute wholly to society.

Michael argued that it should be possible to have a celebrity’s relationship with the media, as well as a private one: that the two were mutually exclusive. In the 1997 Barbara Walters interview, Michael argues there is a time and a place for paparazzi involvement – fully acknowledging that it’s part and parcel of the game of self-promotion, but simultaneously suggesting that there is a cut-off point (perhaps just before hiding cameras in toilets whilst simultaneously taking photographs from helicopters flying overhead?). Michael said,

“
There should be some boundaries, the star needs some space. He has a heart... he is human.”

Whilst wandering the world, Michael continued to love artistry; continued to lift his head from the drowning waters of attempted oppression and make his voice heard. Or - as he put it in ‘Unbreakable’ - “steady laughin’ while surfacin’.” Michael never stopped writing, even whilst in exile: songs such as ‘
People of the World’ and ‘Days in Gloucestershire’ - the latter example evoking an image of a man in peaceful and deserved semi-retirement, lazily picking at grass whilst lying in a field blessed in sunshine. There is a real, simple beauty to it. ‘People of the World’ demonstrates that Michael’s determination to unite the world through melody was unrelenting.

But above his craft and all, Michael’s love was for his children. As he sang himself, his children were his life. There’s a reason Michael had less time for his artistry in his final decade on Earth: he was a hands-on single father.

As I have mentioned, I also have the honour of being a father. Something that involves the divine privilege of listening to a four year old and a two year old serenade me with adaptations of
Jackson 5
songs that are somewhat less-than-faithful to the originals. Though my children possess quite different musical tastes: whereas the elder daughter likes to pirouette and float gracefully to ballads, the younger likes to head-bounce to funk. The younger’s favourite
Jackson 5
song is ‘Dancing Machine’ (at the drop of the tune, she comes alive), whereas this fondness for ‘Dancing Machine’ is ridiculed by my elder daughter for her belief in the song containing the lyric, “croc-oc-odile” (it doesn’t, of course – but if you listen to the refrain “Watch her get down”, you can tell exactly what she means). The elder’s favourite is ‘I’ll Be There’. Or, as she croons it, “I’m A Bear”. Running around in circles with the single-minded determination of catching up with themselves is a dance move they can both agree on, however. And the one song they have a mutual appreciation for is ‘ABC’.

Yeah. It’s on a lot that one.

Indeed, perhaps the only song I’ve sang on more occasions in my life than ‘Billie Jean’, is ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’. During those long, long nights of settling babies down to sleep.

Now. Imagine if someone threatened to take them away from me?

There were cries for Michael to have his children taken away from him after the second wave of allegations.

Imagine what that would have done to him?

***

The talent and genius of Michael Jackson almost becomes redundant in the face of what he tried to utilise the resulting fame for – an attempt at a legacy that makes the world a better place, beginning with a universal reverence for childhood. Michael gathered the waifs and strays - the lost children - and led them to a land of pure escapism. Not only in the physical snapshot of eternal youth that was Neverland, but on a much larger scale, through his art and his mantra of following one’s dreams.

Michael never won the Nobel Peace Prize, although he was twice nominated - in 1998 and 2003 - and was surely the most worthy human being to have never acquired it. Nevertheless, in spite of this particular accolade not having adorned any of the many mantelpieces of Neverland, Michael did receive some twenty internationally-recognised humanitarian awards, as well as countless other recognitions and tributes, including a
Guinness Book of World Records
entry for the
Most Charities Supported By A Pop Star
(thirty-nine), and an eponymous music industry award that continues to be annually presented in celebration of that year’s most philanthropic musical artist. As well as this, Michael set up his own charity, the
Heal The World Foundation
, for which he toured the world to raise funds – donating every penny of the proceeds from it - before having the charity deliver aid by military planes to the innocent people caught up in the war in Sarajevo. All this, before even mentioning his constant striving to use his talent and status to release globally-recognisable musical anthems bearing the sole purpose of inspiring peace and unity amongst the human race.

As the Icelandic musician Bjork surmised,
"[Michael’s] religion is 'magic' and he has a fanatical belief in hope and that everything is going to be alright."

Michael’s self-imposed exile in Neverland was due to the sense of incongruity he felt with the cynicism of the adult world. He wanted to disassociate himself from a corrupted system. The turbulence and brutality of the world and its media empires that were prejudiced against him, meant Neverland was the place where Michael sought refuge. As he said,

“
People become addicted to the world and the violence. And they become subjected to other people’s thoughts and to the American system. Our way is not the only way."

To illustrate this point, there’s a humorous example in which Michael, at the conclusion to a commercial for
Suzuki
, turns to the camera and appears to attempt to wink, but blinks instead. Of course, we see in the ‘Smooth Criminal’ video, that Michael is more than capable of winking. In Japan, however, where the advert was shown, blinking means ‘love’.

Michael built Neverland with the sole purpose of creating a haven for the celebration of childhood - as a retreat for an unhindered exploration of the purity and potential of youth; as somewhere he could escape the societal ‘norms’ thrust – unsolicited – upon us all. ‘Norms’ that consistently attempt to corrupt the very concept of love, in any of its given forms. 'Tarantism' is the word given to describe the act of banishing melancholy through the act of dancing. It was the refuge of Neverland that provided Michael with the solitude and privacy to "escape the world" and "enjoy that simple dance." Before it was ransacked in 2005, whereupon Michael’s utopian pocket of eternal youth was irreparably corrupted by the monstrous ugliness of a perverted and emotionally retarded outside world.

In
Moonwalker
, Michael had an actor playing a young version of himself perform a skit of his ‘Bad’ video. The actor then transforms into the adult Michael. The peculiarity of Michael’s friends dressing up as him is often seized upon by critics. The reason for this could be as prosaic as his friends merely wanting to dress as their hero (after all, thousands of people do this without even having met Michael). Or maybe it was an attempt by Michael to marry his pre-
Thriller
persona with his post-
Thriller
self.

Neverland was not a paedophile’s lure; it was a true expression of innocence. The problem wasn’t Michael’s perspective, it was theirs. It was the rest of the world that needed to recover their inner child, not Michael. People query Michael’s choice to spend his time in the company of children, without ever questioning the reason why millions of people sought to seek his presence when he was a child. As well as whilst he remained childlike as an adult. Michael saw more individual human beings than anyone else that has ever existed. Because they flocked in their hundreds of millions to go and see him.